


Forbidden

by captandor



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adult Content, Consensual Underage Sex, F/M, Infidelity, Mentions of Harry/Ginny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 04:12:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19456105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captandor/pseuds/captandor
Summary: Red flames blurred Adrian’s vision, he blinked to focus and when he opened them again he realized that no, they weren’t flames. He wasn’t dreaming, either. Long red curls - loose and voluminous from his ministrations - flooded his sight and he buried his nose in them with a deep inhalation.





	Forbidden

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gelsey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gelsey/gifts).



> Honestly, I have no idea where this came from. I blame @Gelsey. After a very long writing drought, this is what came of my asking for angsty prompts. Thank you, lady. But really, don't blame me. Blame her.
> 
> Prompt: Adrian/someone, forbidden.
> 
> Un-beta'd.

Warning: Underage (Ginny is about 16 here; she’s about to go back to Hogwarts for her 7th year in the Summer of 1998).

* * *

Red flames blurred Adrian’s vision, he blinked to focus and when he opened them again he realized that no, they weren’t flames. He wasn’t dreaming, either. Long red curls - loose and voluminous from his ministrations - flooded his sight and he buried his nose in them with a deep inhalation. She smelled like sunshine, he swore. He told her as much in a low, husky whisper.

She laughed at him. “You’re sure a bloody romantic,” she replied, he could tell she was rolling her bright honey brown eyes at him, even if he couldn’t see. He got himself up on his hands and knees, over her now, to kiss down her throat and strangle her laugh. He nipped at his favorite scattering of her perfect freckles and let one hand trail down her body to her hip. He squeezed her arse and then with a sharp, quick slap, spanked her cheek just once. She called out at once, a surprised yelp that turned to a high mew at the pleasurable sting.

“Romantic, you say?” he asked, his tone still deep and dark. “Would a romantic have kept you tied up for hours last night, ignoring your pleas for ‘more, Adrian, please, let me come‘?” He felt more than heard the intake of breath as she gasped at his words. As many ways as he had played with her perfect little body over the last two months, he could still make her blush with his dirty mouth. He loved that.

Adrian would never have guessed the depths that lay hidden inside Ginny Weasley when he’d met her at St. Mungos the day after the Battle at Hogwarts. She’d been hospitalized after the battle for a routine exam and though nothing seemed wrong, they’d kept her overnight. He’d been brought in to go over a calming draught’s instructions with her and she’s been unruly, desperate to leave. Adrian had reached out a hand to lay on her shoulder, making her stare suddenly into his dark blue eyes. He spoke. Calmly but not condescendingly, as others seemed to have. “The calmer you are, the quicker they can finish their exams and the quicker you can get out of here. Heroine or not, you’re at their mercy now, so I’d go along with it just to speed it along.” She seemed to... understand. As much as the healers and others had tried talking her down, it was Adrian’s direct, steady voice that had gotten through to her and when she’d been released the next day, he was surprised to find an Owl from her waiting in his office. She was off to her brother’s funeral, and wondered if he wouldn’t mind dropping her more of that calming draught and perhaps a mild sleep potion to help her this evening.

He replied that she would need to meet him after hours at his Manor in Cambridgeshire, he’d have her name added to his Floo network.

Ginny wasn’t of age, but Adrian had always been good at looking the other way when wizards were in need of his potions work off the books. Out from under the watchful eyes at St. Mungos. She’d met him that night, her eyes still rimmed red from crying over her departed brother’s grave, and she’d seemed nearly desperate for relief. He gave her the potions at no charge, out of the kindness of his very hidden heart.

Their meetings became more frequent, until two weeks later when he’d remarked that there were much more pleasurable ways to deal with grief. She’d looked at him, scandalized, and the way her mouth had made a little ‘o’ of surprise had him licking his lips. Adrian had kept his head down during the war - his family had fled, their old pureblood ties making them targets of the Dark Lord and the resistance alike - but he had stayed in the family manor, continuing his potions work at St. Mungo’s no matter who was in charge. He hadn’t dated, there was too much going on with the war and the political factions and whatnot. But he hadn’t been a monk, either. Adrian knew an interested witch when he saw one, and as her shocked look melted into one of curiosity, he knew his little customer would hear him out. He could teach her, he said, ways of calming herself down, of letting go of her frustrations and her anger, in ways that her boyfriend, the Golden Boy Savior Harry Potter certainly couldn’t.

She left, a flurry of red curls and he took himself straight to his shower to grip himself tightly and come to the thought of his hands wrapped right in all that red hair.

The next afternoon, she returned without a request for more medication, and with very little on beneath her robes.

Their ‘lessons’ had become a nearly nightly occurrence since then, and the fire that simmered below her smirk and her wit had begun to consume him.

Yes, he was playing with fire - underage, nearly betrothed to the most famous wizard in the world, still mourning so much loss and absolutely forbidden to the likes of him - but he liked the burn nearly as much as she did.

His hands wondered again, as he bit more sharply at her collar bone - let him leave a mark, let her try to explain that to her perfect, gentlemanly Harry Potter. She winced, “Adrian,” she said harshly, but he didn’t let it stop him. “Let them see,” he said in response, his fingers moving to the heat between her legs, let her try to argue  _ now _ , he thought. He swiped at her folds, causing her to gasp. “Or I suppose we could just accept how wrong this is, and stop,” he offered, bringing his hand up to lick his fingers and then twist at her bare nipple. “Do you want me to stop, Gin?” He asked, his words clipped want, having been teasing them both for some time by now. She shook her head, her cheeks turning bright red with her desire and embarrassment.

“That’s what I thought,” he said slowly, moving his mouth down to lick and nip at her nipple, Ginny writhing underneath him. He loved teasing her.

“Gods, Adrian, please,” she whined, making him grin into her chest.

“Please, what?” He asked, his breath on her wet skin causing goosebumps to rise across her breasts.

“Please,” she said again. She was always reluctant to say, ‘fuck me,’ ‘I need you,’ ‘I want you,’ but he always pushed. He imagined that’s what she got out of this - he pushed her just barely beyond her comfort level, to where she didn’t have to think, didn’t have to be the war hero, the lovely girl on Potter’s arm, the future wife, mum, celebrity. Here, where no one knew she was, where Adrian didn’t care who she was or what her role was in the world, she could do the hard work of letting all of that go. He gave her the freedom to stop thinking, stop grieving, stop trying so damned hard. At least for a little bit. After her parents and siblings had gone to bed, after Harry had chastely kissed her cheek and wished her sweet dreams at her bedroom door, she would sneak downstairs in the overcrowded Burrow and floo to him, to his bedroom, his big empty manor where no one could hear her beg or scream his name or suck him off.

She made such lovely noises, even if they weren’t the words he hoped to hear one day.

“Well since you asked so nicely,” he replied, moving so that he was lying next to her on the huge bed, pulling her body on top of his so that she straddled him. “Taste me,” he told her, and watched her - all red hair and freckles and pale smooth skin - move down his body, kissing a tentative trail down his chest and stomach until she took him into her mouth in one smooth, wet motion. His eyes closed in pleasure, her little mouth so intent on his cock. He muffled a moan as she moved to take him deeper, he felt the tip of his dick hit the back of her throat and he purred, murmuring praise and tugging on her gorgeous strands in thanks. She liked when he pulled her hair, he’d learned early on.

Before he came, he tugged a little hard, a gesture to tell her to stop, pulling her up his body, and said, looking her right in the eye, “Ride my cock, Gin, use me to make yourself feel good.” And she leaped on him, doing exactly as she was told, until they were both sweating heaps of limbs and heaving breaths. The fireplace - their only light before - had burned down to embers.

She laid next to him, after, quiet in the large, ancient bedroom. They didn’t cuddle after their ‘lessons’ - that wasn’t what she was here for, softness, comfort from a kind, soothing voice. She didn’t usually stay very long, with the exception of a quick shower and then a drying spell, before whisking herself off via floo fire back to her home, her absence never noticed. Tonight, something in the air seemed to shift as she sighed and the spoke, “I leave for Hogwarts soon,” she whispered. Adrian had known as much. He sighed in response, not knowing what she wanted him to say.

“I’m sure your 7th year will be positively dull after your first six.” He settled on, a small crooked smirk making its way onto his face in the dark. She sighed in seeming frustration this time, “I’m just saying, I’m leaving soon. This will have to. You know. End.”

He rolled over to look at her, surprising them both by tenderly brushing a long lock of red hair out of her face. His face took on a dimension she hadn’t seen since that very first moment in St. Mungo’s - direct, but understanding, as if they had a connection that neither of them admitted to. “I know.” He said, right to the point, as usual.

“Alright then,” she said, moving to get up and crossing the room to the suite’s bath. When she’d started the shower and was just wetting her hair, she started at the shower’s wide glass door opening and Adrian stepping in behind her. He took the bottle of expensive French shampoo from her hand and soaped his own, gently scrubbing her scalp as he massaged the soap into her strands. They didn’t speak, but the tension from their conversation, her surprise at him seeking her out here, seemed to melt as she then rinsed her hair and finally, turned to him. He leaned down - much taller than her - and kissed her full, slowly, deeply on the mouth under the hot streams of water. This was entirely new territory and Adrian’s heart beat harder in his ears as he pushed her back against the wall, still kissing her.

She was underage, and completely unavailable, and yet the thought of her leaving had him suddenly craving a deeper connection, one he knew they had but had ignored all summer. He ground out her name against her lips, “Gin,” and her arms came up around his shoulders, grabbing at him, needing him all over again despite their activities of less than twenty minutes before. The water kept coming over them as she lifted herself on his strong shoulders and wrapped her legs around him, the cool tile wall holding her up against the pressure of his body.

“Adrian,” she whispered, between kisses, the barriers they normally held so tightly - him the distant, older teacher of the forbidden, her the innocent student, using him to fill her time and empty her mind - falling away.

He stopped to turn the shower off and they stayed that way, her mid-air in his arms, his face buried in her neck. “I know you have to go,” he whispered, not wanting to break the delicate balance they had now, “and I know this has to end, never should have started,” he admitted into her skin. “But if you ever need...” he wasn’t sure what he was trying to say. If she ever needed a  _ friend _ ? A confidant? An illicit potion? No. None of those things. “Well, I’m not going anywhere,” he finished pathetically.

Maybe she was right, maybe he  _ was _ just a bloody romantic.

Ginny sighed and leaned her head back against the tile. She was starting to chill from the water and the air. They were stark naked, still, in a way that felt much more obvious and inappropriate now, for some reason she couldn’t think of.

“I should go home,” she said finally, and he let her down. She moved around him, close to him, and stepped out of the shower to dry herself and get back into her pajamas and light traveling cloak.

When he came back out into his bedroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair still dripping, his heart still hammering, she was gone.


End file.
